Here we have a man
who goes by Michael May
He grabbed a shovel;
wanted to have his last say.
His doing so was
just a bit unlucky,
He was arrested in
his home state of Kentucky.
It all went down
near the town of Stanford
When his rants to
his pop went unanswered.
What he did was most
uncustomary,
Late one night in
the church cemetery.
While drunk he tried
to excavate his father's grave,
A chore that was a
bit depraved.
He just needed
someone to debate,
Didn't matter to him
their living state.
There's nothing like
getting enraged and mad,
Then going and
digging up your dear old dad.
He's always upped
your thermostat,
So dig him up for a
heated chat.
A bit unsure about
his plan,
He may have dug for
the wrong old-man.
There's not much
there between his ears,
His dad's been dead
for thirty years!
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